Her Eyes
by Holix
Summary: Battered and badly broken, Scar Passes our after a vicious battle with military personnel in an abandoned alleyway. The trouble is, it doesn't remain abandoned for long. Nice words, awkward times, and a few secrets are sure to follow. Mild swearing.
1. Like a lost puppy a really big one

A lightly tanned girl walked slowly toward her apartment building, the hard rain having soaked her to the bone long ago. Pushing her sunglasses up again to cover her eyes, she turned the corner to find a large man collapsed on the steps of the alley entrance to her apartment. Shivering slightly, she rubbed her arms and glanced around, looking for anyone who might know him. They were the only two within sight.

Grabbing the tanned man by the shoulder, she began dragging him inside. Momentarily, her mind listed off all the things that could go wrong if she brought the injured man into her home. She didn't even know his name. For all she knew, he could be a crazy killer, or even a rapist. But, she realized that her conscience would rag on her for forever if she didn't help him and he died. With that note, she reached a decision.

It looked like she didn't have much choice other than to carry him up to her apartment. Which was located on the top floor. It's not like she could just leave him here in the rain, anyway. Flipping him onto his back, she began pulling on his right sleeve. The soaked girl managed to get him to the base of the stairs before his right sleeve ripped clean off. She fell back onto the stairs, holding what was once his sleeve. _Oh no_ she thought, clasping her hands over her mouth. Smiling grimly, she approached the black and white haired man. Unusual white markings on his exposed arm caught her interest.

She leaned forward, taking a closer look. Reeling her head back, she realized who this was. He was the State Alchemist Murderer, Scar. Biting her lip, two halves of her brain battled it out again. He was unconscious and clearly hurt, but if she were caught harboring a known criminal, it would mean a lot of trouble for her. Plus, if they realized who she was… The girl shook her head. Looks like she was harboring a criminal for the time being…

Panting heavily, she pulled the heavy Ishbalin man up the last stair and into her apartment. As carefully as she could manage, she pushed and pulled Scar onto her too-small bed. Straightening up and wiping the combination of sweat and rain off her forehead, she examined the extent of his wounds. Stripping off his shirt, she took in the fresh cuts and bruises mingled with old scars. No wonder he was out cold. Sighing, she left to fetch her medical supplies.

Returning swiftly, she started with his left arm, sterilizing and wrapping it quickly. She wrapped both hands around one large bicep, moving it to expose his bruised ribcage. Leaning back, she shook her head. Her hands could barely wrap around a single bicep of his. How had she ever managed to drag him up three stories?

The clock read 11:04 as her red eyes glanced at it. There was still so much left to treat… Frowning, she sighed and crossed her arms, leaning back on the chair a little. Blood, his blood, and possibly someone else's, had seeped its way underneath her fingernails. She glanced back up to Scar, and his still untreated chest wounds.

Soaked in alcohol, the cleansing pads she had been using to sterilize him were quickly piling up in her small trashcan. But, he was almost completely wrapped up. A knock on the door caused her to start, nearly knocking over the tray holding all her medical supplies. She gasped, barely catching the glass bottle of alcohol as it rolled off the tray. Letting out a breath, the young woman decided that she needed a tray with higher edges on it. After carefully setting the bottle back down, she turned and contemplated opening the door. Who could it be, anyway?

"Open up, Damnit! I know you're in there. I can see your wet footprints- no, smear all over the ground. What the hell were you doing? You haven't paid me, yet, either." Cringing, the realization that she was screwed hit her. Quickly, she grabbed the damp towel on the tray, wiping off her bloody hands a little. She suspected she did nothing more than just smear it around into a finer coat on her hands, though.

Keeping the security chain attached to the door, she unlocked it slowly, peeking out one eye, it's yellow depths staring at the large man in front of her. "… I… thought the rent wasn't due until tomorrow. Sorry Mr. Wolfe."

The large, burly man frowned underneath his moustache, looking not very wolf-like, but rather resembling a hairy walrus. "Look, kid, I don't mind renting out to you, even if it's been illegally for most of your stay, but you can't keep paying me late. When do you get your next paycheck?"

"This Friday." She might have been paranoid, but she could swear she had just heard movement behind her. She swallowed, still obscured by the door.

Mr. Wolfe raised an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical look. "It's Tuesday."

There was a pause. "… I know."

Mr. Wolfe sighed, shaking his head, " okay, fine, fine. I'll take your payment late. You can't keep doing this, though. I set those payment dates for a reason."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, and thank you…" The barely visible portion of her head bobbled up and down as she nodded to his terms. Mr. Wolfe sighed, waving her off and turning away, shaking his head slightly as he trudged off.

There was a click as the door was locked, and it seemed a million times louder than it was supposed to be. It must've just been the adrenaline. A breath was let out as she slid to the floor, letting her head rest against the door. _That was close…_Opening her eyes, Scar was indeed still there… unconscious. With a slight frown, she stood, feeling a bit silly for some reason as she made her way over to him, picking up where she left off.

There was no need to look at the clock, by the time all of Scar's wounds had been properly dressed. It was way into the night, and at that moment, the young woman sitting in her cheap, slightly leaky apartment with bloody hands, an unconscious criminal in her bed, and more than a few secrets just knew she was really tired.

Feeling the heaviness of her eyelids, she struggled to keep them open. Scooting further back into the chair, she brought her feet up to the edge of her mattress, leaning her torso against her thighs, arms wrapping around her knees, her chin cradled in the valley her pushed together knees created. Blinking a little, a small smile crept its way onto her features as she curled and uncurled her toes, watching the little digits grab and release the sheets. She let out a breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding, feeling her sore body relax, her eyelids shut. She'd let them remain closed for just a bit, so that they wouldn't protest so much when she opened them in a few seconds, to clean up this mess…


	2. Say Hi

Scar knew he was no longer outside. He was in a bed, a really small bed, and could feel the cold morning air on his bare chest. But it wasn't bare. It felt like someone had dressed all of his wounds. He wasn't restrained. He was probably inside. For a few moments, Scar took in everything else he could gather without opening his eyes, his breathing still slow and shallow, as if he was asleep. He could smell disinfectant, blood… probably his, and something… sweet. Feminine. It smelled like a home. Not some military prisoner's hospital.

He opened his eyes, and found his was in a crappy apartment, lying in a tiny bed. His crimson eyes swept over everything in his line of sight as he lay down, having yet to move. He stopped to study the person who had taken him in. The she, the young woman, a girl who was probably wasn't even twenty. This… is who had saved him? He glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten thirty…

The bright morning light shown through this slightly dingy window, showing the roofs of a few buildings, and happy blue morning sky. He was high up, possibly the top floor. He studied the girl a little more. Had she dragged him all the way up here? It seemed unlikely she would have the physical strength or will to pull him up so many stairs. Chances are, she had employed help of some kind. So someone else probably knew he was here. But where was that person? It made him a little nervous. He glanced and the locked door, with the little security chain that probably wouldn't stop a ten-year-old.

Glancing back at the girl, he wondered a bit. She was so tiny, curled up in an uncomfortable-looking chair, and sleeping soundly. He studied her physical make-up a little more. She might have been unusually tall, and she was definitely too thin. Once, she'd probably had an athletic build. This is what poverty did to people. He frowned. Where was the man who must have helped her drag him up here? Did she live with him? It seemed unlikely, as it was a small apartment, and had a one-person home feel to it.

He should go. He glanced around a little, searching for his shirt. It wasn't in view. With a silent sigh, he sat up, ignoring the scream of protest fm his ribs. The bed creaked a little. Scar's head jerked toward the small gasping noise, first curling and raising a fraction of an inch on instinct. She was awake. One gold, and one red eye peered at him, hidden in the shadows her hair cast around her face, the knees concealing the rest of her features. She blinked. "You're… awake."

Scar stared at her for a moment. He nodded. "You're… Ishbalin?"

The bright pair of eyes blinked. "Probably. You should rest. Your ribs are really beat up, Scar…" She stopped herself, cursing her stupidity. Why did she have to go and say his name…?

Scar froze, regarding her a little warily. "You know my name… so you know what it is I do?" She nodded. He frowned, "then why do this for me?" He glanced at the door, unable to help thinking that the military dogs would be bursting in any moment…

"I… couldn't just leave you out there on the street; wet, beaten, and bleeding like an unwanted dog…" She'd yet to move, just watching him cautiously. She wasn't sure what he'd do…

Scar regarded her carefully, "where's the man who helped you bring me up here?"

There was silence for a moment as she got over her confusing, sitting up a little more, the hair falling away from her face some, eyebrows knitted together, "what man? No one helped me bring you up here. No one else knows you're here, unless they saw me drag you up." She paused. Great. Just great. Tell the known killer that no one knows you're here with me, all alone. You could totally kill me and no one would know until my corpse started to smell, or Mr. Wolfe comes to collect my rent. Good job. Super fantastic.

Scar blinked, "… you… dragged me all the way up here." He stared at her again, glancing her up and down disbelievingly.

She pulled her knees to her chest tighter, feeling a little bit more self-conscious. "Well… yeah. I… I can do it. I'm not _that_ weak." She paused, "It… just took me a while."

Scar blinked, silently impressed she would trouble herself to do that. He blinked again, unsure of what to do or say at this point. He'd established that she probably wasn't a threat of any sort; she seemed like she just wanted to help. "Where's my shirt."

"Oh…" She glanced down at the floor, looking at the torn shirt, and reddened a little. "Uhm, about that…" Gingerly, she picked it up, handing the main garment to him, then the torn sleeve. "It accidentally tore when I was dragging you inside… sorry. Did you, uhm, want me to repair it… or something…?" She grinned a little, nervous.

Scar looked at the girl, then the shirt, then back to the girl, then back to the blood soaked, sliced to ribbons, torn, dirt encrusted rag of a shirt he was holding. Was she serious? "Don't worry about it… I'll get another one."

The bright eyes glanced around nervously, her toes curling around the edge of the chair, her fingers laced together in front of her knees, thumbs twiddling. "Uh… So…"

Scar stared at her. He raised an eyebrow. She averted her eyes and stared at the floor, utterly intrigued by the cracks in the old floor. He glanced around a little. He wasn't good with people. He certainly wasn't good with girls. By the looks of it, she was probably the vice versa of him. Fantastic. Yet another reason he should go. Yes, go. Right now actually… "I should go." He shifted a little, grimacing as he made to stand.

A hand shot out, placing itself on the uninjured part of his chest, just below his neck. "You shouldn't-" Scar grabbed it by reflex, twisting hard. She had a slightly surprised look on her face as she lurched forward, stumbling a little, her knee digging itself into the mattress on the bed to keep herself from falling. "A-…Ah…"

Scar twitched himself away, releasing her wrist immediately, and stared at the floor, a general feeling of shame creeping up on him. "… I didn't mean…"

She retracted her hand, cradling it slightly as she pulled the sleeve over her reddened wrist. "It… it's okay." She smiled briefly, "I know. It was just a reflex. Don't worry about it. It barely hurt, anyway."

That just made Scar feel worse, hearing her bold-faced lie, seeing her tell it with such a straight, believable expression. He grunted. "I should go," he repeated, making to move toward the door.

"What?" In a flash she was there again, in front of him, arms crossed, a frown on her face. "Oh no. No way. You're injured."

Scar stared at her impassively. "I've had much worse."

She bit her lip, realizing he was right. "Well, still. You should at least stay until night. You don't even have a shirt anymore. It's broad daylight, too. I'm sure it's not a good idea for you to be wandering around. I don't know what you did last night, but I'm guessing the military is probably looking for you." She frowned a little more, crossing her arms.

Scar stared down at her, considering her words. And, strangely enough, her height. She looked to come almost exactly to his shoulder. Odd. He sighed, mulling over his logic, "… true." He glanced back down at her, "I'll stay… but I will need to go soon. It's not a good idea fro me to stay in one place for long."

She nodded in acceptance, "Of course, I just want you to stay until tonight for sure." Smiling a little, she added, "and you can stay as long as you'd like. You're safe here." She liked something about Scar, instinctually. Something about him was good; she felt it. She wanted to keep it around, whatever it was.

Scar blinked, "I… thank you." Something like a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. He glanced at the clock.

Following his gaze, she read the clock. It was close to eleven PM already? She sighed, "I have to go to work, soon." She was taking the night shift, so she doubted she would even be back until maybe nine… Luckily, Wednesday was her easy day, where she only worked a few hours, instead of her usual eleven hour days.

Scar nodded. She glanced around a little, aware of the mess her apartment was swimming in. She sighed, picking up some of the bloody trash, clearing away some of the medical supplies. "… where…?" She glanced up at Scar. He wanted to know where she worked?

She straightened up, "This little café, near the military offices…" Scar stiffened a little. Shuffling her feet, she offered a brief smile, "yeah, I know… not exactly the best place to work…" But it was better than the streets, whether it was living on them, or working on them. Stepping into the bathroom, she cleaned up quickly, throwing the waitress uniform into her bag. Glancing in the mirror, she adjusted her hair to cover her now only one red eye. Stepping out, she unlocked the door, taking off the chain. "I'll be back later tonight, feel free to do whatever you like. I've got some book somewhere around here…" With a slight smile, she opened the door and stepped out.

Only after she left did Scar realize he didn't even know her name.


End file.
